What's Easy
by RoseFleur
Summary: Finn and Rachel are going round and round in circles. Maybe it's time to break the chain. T for Puck's language.


**A/N: I do not own Glee but I did get so excited when I read Lea's tweet saying 'Berry's Back' today, with THE most adorable picture of her on. ROLL ON S3.**

**Here's a little Finn/Rachel/Puck conflict/drabble for you. Enjoy and reviews as always are much appreciated. **

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><p>They had been apart not a month before Rachel found herself longing after him. She'd watch him shuffle down the corridor, towering over every person he passed, flashing the younger kids an encouraging grin. She'd sit at the back in Glee Club, eyeing him as he twiddle with his big thumbs, hands that she adored so, that enclosed her tiny palms in themselves, and caressed each finger with each of his own callused ones; eyeing him as he battled with whether to stand up and sing something or whether to sit still and remain silent, eyeing him as he furrowed his brow and made the decision to sing. And each time he sang, her heart dipped slightly and it felt as though the song was directed to her.<p>

Then there were the times he would send her one of his lopsided, heart-warming beams that she recognised as only for her and she would melt and be completely his once more. He made her feel special and unique and cared for; she was his princess.

Of course there was someone else in the picture, but he was not for her. He was dark and twisted and rebellious and constricting. He stared after her with pain in his eyes, not a bright smile that made her heart melt, but one that made it beat desperately as though wanting to burst from her chest. His words, his whisper, sent not tingles down her spine, but aching shivers that made her need a moment to catch her breath and remember where she was. And she still remembered his kiss, of course she did. It was not a delicate, caring kiss but a heated, passionate, desiring osculation. Naturally he would mock her for her diverse range of vocabulary that would allow her to come up with a word like 'osculation' whereas Finn, her so-called Prince Charming would struggle to pronounce such a word, but she would gently hit him and tell him that it was not Finn's fault that he did not read as much as she did but he was gifted in other areas.

"Like what?" He would snort, running a hand through his Mohawk absent-mindedly.

"He's caring, and tender and gentle. He doesn't need words to convey his feelings." She would say, wrinkling her nose.

"I notice you didn't say 'loving' in there B. All those words mean jack-shit if he doesn't love you." And he would push himself off of the bleachers – their spot – and walk away without another word.

So yes, hardly a month after their break up, Rachel found herself sending back a smile and falling into his arms once more. So often were these break ups and reconciliations that the Glee Club, and nearly the entire school, ignored them each time, counting down to the next separation or reconnection without a glance at the murky relationship in between. For a few weeks or so, possibly more, depending on how good Finn was that time, or how willing to 'put-out' Rachel was (as Puck so crudely called it), they were back on top, the golden couple of Glee Club, sitting at the front, hands clasped, beaming as if the other were the ice cream sundae on a hot day.

Lauren would retch from the back of the group sat beside her partner in crime, Puck. Since their own mutual break up, she was responsible for being his wingman specifically when it came to scoring booze from people outside the local 7/11. She could threaten weakling business men, he could flirt with cougars – they were a perfect team. She would roll her eyes at the pair down front and make some derogatory comment to Puck. She knew never to make such a comment about Berry, that was 'not kosher' - according to Puck – and Lauren was pretty sure she knew why but she never voiced this for fear of losing a feeling of belonging to someone. Because frankly, underneath all her 'bad attitude' front, she still remembered her pageant years when people wanted her and the feeling of having all that ripped out from underneath her was still fresh in her head; and having someone, like Puck, beside her to crack jokes and have fun with and care about her, was something she wasn't willing to let go of soon. So she lay off on the Berry jokes and instead stuck to calling the pairing 'sickening' or Finn 'gigantor'.

Rachel didn't change though; she was still fun-loving, and courageous and strong willed, and to hell if anyone thought she was going to be brought down by a man. But having him on her arm, having the ability to just lean over and kiss him whenever she wanted, to hold him in her arms without people staring confusedly was a comfort and a pleasure. It was like slipping on a pair of warm comfortable slippers after a night of high stilettos. _Hang on, had she really just compared Finn to slippers? _Finn shouldn't be slippers. In fact, he shouldn't really be any pair of shoes. He should be a firework or a Ferrari or a vodka shot, dancing on her throat, igniting her chest, burning with the thrill and excitement. But how come when she thought of these metaphors, a different man came to the forefront of her mind and Finn became a glass of warm milk before bedtime?

Rachel rubbed over her face as she sat in the bleachers, an image of milk tripping over her brain. She laughed to herself, and stared at her feet, flexing and pointing her toes. A figure sat down beside her.

"Hey baby," She said softly.

"Baby?" said a deep, husky voice, "I don't usually get that treatment."

"Noah?" asked Rachel turning to face her olive-skinned companion. "I thought you were Finn."

"Does Finn ever come here?" questioned Puck, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"No," she admitted, pulling her hair over one shoulder.

"Why are you even with him anyways?" Puck asked, curling his lip slightly.

"How can you ask that Noah?" Rachel looked away in disgust, wrinkling her nose and standing up to turn her back on him. She began to walk away when he called out after her,

"I notice you didn't answer."

She made a noise that sounded like 'Tchhh' and stormed away from him in true Berry fashion. Puck smiled softly in her wake and exhaled deeply, leaning back on the bleachers and shutting his eyes.

Later that night, as Rachel lay in bed staring at the patterns her ceiling made, she pondered Noah's question and the fact that she had refused to dignify him with an answer. She should probably prove to him that she was with Finn for a good reason, so as to avoid any other questions from him. She punched her pillow, frustrated with Noah, but mostly frustrated with herself. Frowning, she screwed her eyes tightly shut, seeing spots of colour dance in her blackened vision and the hazy form of a familiar man appear. She rubbed her eyes angrily and pushed the vision away, forcing herself to calm down and fall asleep in serenity and peace, without annoying reminders of Noah and Finn, or Finn and Noah she should say, causing unrest to her slumber.

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She marched up to him at school at jabbed him angrily in the chest with her index finger.

"Ouch, B, what's the deal?" Puck cursed under his breath and rubbed the spot she had just indented her fingernail in.

"The deal is, _Puckerman,_" He knew immediately that she was in a bad mood – if the poking wasn't indication enough – from the inflective use of his last name. "That I'm mad at you."

"Because?" asked Puck, raising his eyebrows.

"Because you questioned my relationship with Finn!" She wailed, shaking her head at him.

"And that's not allowed?" Puck narrowed his eyes at her.

"No," She huffed, folding her arms, and sniffing haughtily in a very Berry way. "It's not."

The bell rang and she was prevented from expanding on her reasoning behind her perfect relationship.

She frowned and said, "You'll meet me at the spot at lunch and I will tell you exactly why." And then she marched away from him, her long brown hair dancing behind her with each stride. He did not even question her use of instructive lexis, or where the 'spot' was, because he already knew without hesitation. And without hesitation he knew he'd be sat in the bleachers come lunch time, being shouted at for no fault of his own.

Sure enough, as he sauntered across the benches eating the last of his fries, he was faced with a vision of Rachel Berry pacing up and down furiously.

"Jeez, B" He said, sloping towards her, "Calm down," He put a hand on her shoulder to placate her but she shrugged it off almost immediately, plonking herself down on the hard seat.

He sat down beside her and said, "What's wrong?" biting his lip.

"Nothing," replied Rachel, hurriedly and a little unconvincingly.

She paused momentarily and continued, "Why did you question my relationship with Finn?"

Instead of answering, Puck handed her another question. "Why are you with Finn, Rachel?" said Puck, softly and patiently.

She paused again, exhaled and closed her eyes, before launching into a Berry-babble. "He's kind, and handsome and funny and he's always been there for me and he's gentle and caring and he makes me feel safe and secure. And he loves me." She finished, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Do you love _him_?" asked Puck, looking at her deeply in the eye, with that intrusive glare that made her stomach squirm uncomfortably.

"I, I-" She stammered, twisting her fingers between each other.

"Thought as much." Puck said dully.

"Yes, I do love him." Rachel stated, though whether she was trying to convince Puck or herself, neither knew.

"Right," said Puck insipidly, "So you're saying he makes your heart race every time you're near him or think of him? That you can't imagine a life without him in it and you're not sure how you actually managed to get by before he was a part of your world? That when you lie awake at night he's the one tripping over your mind that you can't stop thinking about? That you ache and throb at the thought of him with someone else, so much that you crave his touch, his whisper, his glance? That you're so in love with him that your pitiful existence seems mediocre beside the beauty of his life and soul?"

Rachel was silent, not daring to look at Puck.

"I thought as much." He repeated, pushing himself off the bleachers and beginning to stride away.

"Noah!" She cried after him, standing up to follow.

He spun around furiously and stalked back to her, coming so close they were nearly nose-to-nose. "Then why are you with him?" He roared into her face.

"Because!" She bellowed back, sinking onto the seat, tears streaming down her face. "Because it's easy Noah!"

He softened, and sat down beside her, waiting for her to continue.

"I know what I'm getting with Finn, I know he'll always care about me and love me and pick me up when I need him. I feel security when I'm wrapped in his arms or his kisses and I know if he breaks my heart it'll hurt a hell of a lot less than if someone else did."

"Someone like who?" muttered Puck so quietly the words only just made it to Rachel's ears.

"Don't play dumb, Noah," She reprimanded him, getting up and smoothing down her skirt. "You're too intelligent for that." She finished, throwing the words over her shoulder before walking away from the crumpled figure she'd left hunched over in the stands.

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Once again Rachel found herself lying on her bed, in the dark, staring at the patterned ceiling, turning things over in her mind. She sighed heavily and looked for a sign above her – the creases writing out 'Finn' or a tall gangling figure appearing before her. But there was no sign, she was kidding herself if she thought there would be some sort of supernatural image convincing her that her and Finn were true love. The only sign she could find was her racing heart as she re-played the conversation with Puck in her head.

'_He makes your heart race every time you're near him or think of him? You can't imagine a life without him in it and you're not sure how you actually managed to get by before he was a part of your world? When you lie awake at night he's the one tripping over your mind that you can't stop thinking about? You ache and throb at the thought of him with someone else, so much that you crave his touch, his whisper, his glance? You're so in love with him that your pitiful existence seems mediocre beside the beauty of his life and soul?'_

And suddenly, it all seemed clearer. She grabbed her phone off the side of her bedside table and dialled an all too familiar number.

"Rach?" said his deep, smooth voice.

"Hi," She breathed deeply, "Finn,"

"Is something wrong?" He asked, his voice wavering.

"I just, I, I need to talk to you. I'll meet you at," She stopped her mind from saying 'the spot' and half laughed to herself before continuing, "the park, in fifteen minutes?"

"Sure," Finn agreed, a little unconvinced, "I'll see you then." And he hung up the phone without another word.

They both knew what was coming, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt.

They were parallel to each other in the dark green of the park. There was silence but for the distant laughter of some few children playing out far too late on a school night. Rachel watched Finn, took a deep breath, and moved towards him. He reflected her movements until they were stood but four feet apart.

"Hi," he murmured, running a hand through his messy brown tendrils.

"Hi," she echoed, meeting his eye with a simple blink and a watery smile.

"We're breaking up again aren't we?" He did not seem too ruffled by it, but then he did not know the significance of it compared to Rachel who stood, shivering despite the night's heat, her lip wobbling and her eyes desperate to cry.

"Yes," she said simply, her voice scraping against her throat calling to her to take the words back. But her body was stronger, her heart, her mind, all who knew that this wasn't just another break-up to be reconciled in a matter of weeks. "But this is the last time, Finn. We're not getting back together." She shook her head softly, and dipped her eye-line to the ground. "I love you, I do, but I'm not _in _love with you. And that's not enough anymore, or fair to either of us. We deserve true, blissful happiness, not settling for comfort and pleasure."

Finn opened his mouth to argue, but closed it upon a look from Rachel.

"You know I'm right Finn. You're not in love with me." He gave a slight twitch of the head, which she took to be a nod. "But I still care deeply about you and I know you feel the same about me."

He nodded again, more visibly clearer and took a step closer to her. He sighed heavily and drew her body into his. He enveloped her tiny figure in his tall, broad hold and rested his cheek in her soft, brown curls, kissing the crown of her hair lightly.

"You're always right, Rach, s'why I love you. But once again you've got me covered." He laughed slightly, "I'm not in love with you. Just the idea of the perfect relationship we seem to have. And I do care about you and understand exactly where you're coming from."

They stood for a moment in the tight grip, relishing the heat between them and the scent of each other once more. Then he drew back, placed a soft kiss on her cheek and said,

"I'll see you tomorrow. Night Rach,"

"Night Finn," she called after him, watching as he waved over his shoulder and walked off out of her love life, and into the dark night. She sighed, pulled the sleeves of her cardigan down over her hands and shoved them into her coat pockets, turned on the spot and left.

She pulled into her drive, coasting straight past the familiar truck a few doors down. She let herself in the house, threw her keys and jacket onto a work surface and stalked upstairs throwing herself onto her bed. A few tears trickled out of her eye, but she could not manage much more. She knew that part of her life was over and it had been a good part. She smiled softly to herself, recounting the memories, before putting them to the back of her mind, where they would rest as memories. A tapping at the window drew her from her daze.

She pulled herself up from the bed and moved across to the French windows that seated a pleasant striped window seat beneath them, and led out to a slight balcony. Confusedly she opened the double windows and stuck her head out. She was met with a vicious blow to the head from a pebble.

"Ouch," She cried involuntarily rubbing the spot she'd just been hit with.

"Shit B! I thought the window was still shut!"

"Hello Noah," said Rachel, still massaging the slight bump on her forehead "So nice to see you too,"

"Can I come up?" He called up to her hopefully.

She nodded and he climbed up the vines in a few swift movements onto the balcony and in through the windows. She took his hand and helped him through into her bedroom and did not let go of the palm even when his feet were secure on the carpet.

"It's me isn't it?" He asked, gazing into her deep brown eyes.

She furrowed her brow in confusion, depicting the emotion with a look. He put his head on one side and said, raising his eyebrows, "The heartbreaker?"

She barked out half a laugh and said, "I told you you were more intelligent than you like to pretend."

"What can I say?" He said, shrugging in mock immodesty.

"And what about me?" asked Rachel looking at him imploringly to be faced with a look of true misunderstanding.

"What do you mean?" Puck questioned confusedly.

"He makes your heart race every time you're near him or think of him? You can't imagine a life without him in it and you're not sure how you actually managed to get by before he was a part of your world? When you lie awake at night he's the one tripping over your mind that you can't stop thinking about? You ache and throb at the thought of him with someone else, so much that you crave his touch, his whisper, his glance? You're so in love with him that your pitiful existence seems mediocre beside the beauty of his life and soul?" quoted Rachel, "Don't tell me that was all just words Noah Puckerman."

"You got me," admitted Puck, raising his hands in defeat. He put one hand to her cheek and she nudged the side of her face into it comfortingly. He ran the other hand through her thick, dark hair holding it in his grip. "Sometimes you've got to make the decision between what's easy and what's right." He murmured, edging his face down to meet her eye level.

He noticed a tear seeping from her eye and hurriedly wiped it with his thumb. "What's wrong?" He asked, his words laced with worry and concern.

"It's just, you're right." Rachel admitted glancing up into his hazel eyes.

"I usually am." He grinned pretentiously.

"No," She laughed slightly, "You're _right_."

"Oh," He said softly, realizing the weight of her words.

Soundlessly he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her with tenderness and passion and love and she returned the gesture with equal measures of emotion, tickling the back of his neck with her hands. She could feel him smiling against her kiss and at once knew that this was where she belonged and the great heartbreaker had finally pieced her tainted heart back together.

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><p><strong>Pleeaase review, means so much to me :) <strong>


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